


Tangled Lace

by one_more_knight



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Foot Fetish, Master & Servant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-27
Updated: 2010-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7006450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_knight/pseuds/one_more_knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Feet fetish." Arthur hurts his foot in a hunting accident. Gwen takes care of him. </p><p>Set in early seasons, when Gwen is a servant in Prince Arthur's castle. Established sexual relationship, not yet romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Lace

"I can't believe it," Arthur says from somewhere above her, his tone angry. Gwen looks up from where she was bandaging his feet. He's laid back on the bed, one arm thrown over his face and talking to the ceiling. His jaw is set and his face faintly flushed where Gwen could see it. 

It was a common hunting trip accident, someone falling into a rabbit hole and hurting their ankle, except it normally didn't happen to the Prince. He probably wouldn't have said anything about his injury and carried on the hunt, if only to be spared the embarrassment, Gwen thinks, but Merlin had made a fuss until all the knights noticed and together they had marched Arthur back to the castle under some fake pretend that Merlin had hurt himself. Of course, once back, Arthur had made sure to give Gaius a full account of fake illness signs Merlin had shown, just to get back at him, and now Merlin was stuck downstairs trying to convince him it wasn't true while Gwen went up with bandages. 

"That deer was beautiful," he adds, voice resigned, and Gwen bites her lower lip to hide her smile. 

"You'll catch it next time, sire," Gwen says, looping the bandage once more around his ankle.

"No, I won't. Merlin will be there and make too much noise again, and you know it. Today was a rare time he hadn't yet scared it away," he sighs. 

They fall into a small, comfortable silence, before she says,

"I could keep him away for a bit, next time, if you' like."

Arthur props himself up on his elbows, face lit. "Could you do that?"

Gwen shifts her eyes from where Arthur's unlaced shirt has slipped down a shoulder and exposes most of his collarbone. She tries to focus on her task, feeling Arthur's foot hot and smooth under her hands. "I do it sometimes for the cooks," she says, "when they are preparing for a feast." 

Arthur snorts in amusement, but surprises her by saying, "To be fair, he often steals the blueberry bread for me. He only eats the honey -" and here he looks at her face, a small grin playing on his lips and from that Gwen cannot look away, "- straight from the pot, not even using a spoon." 

Gwen laughs, not able to stop it. The moment stretches, both of them looking at one another, smiling. Then Arthur's foot twitches in her lap, and Gwen is startled into looking down at it, feeling suddenly embarrassed. She tucks a stray bit of hair behind her ear and fusses over Arthur's foot, carefully wrapping the cloth one last time around his ankle then bending down to check it's not tied too tightly. She runs her fingers over it, smoothing down any fold, and doesn't realize how close she's bent before she feels the flex of Arthur's toes next to her neck. She looks up at him as well as she can without moving, and sees him staring at her, mouth slightly open and eyes heavy. Without looking down, she tucks the loose end of the bandage under a loop, tugging slightly to make it stay. 

Arthur's foot twitches next to her neck again. 

"Too thigh?" she asks. Arthur swallows but shakes his head.

"No," he says, then adds, "but you hair, it tickles a bit." He gives her a small private smile and wriggles his toes deliberately. Gwen shakes her head, making sure her hair touches him, and he barks a laugh, feet dragging back automatically, before wincing. 

"Ah, sorry!" Gwen says, putting one hand on his foot to still it, and Arthur shakes his head, shrugging one shoulder. It makes his shirt slip on his shoulder again, and Gwen gets distracted once more. The foot under her hand is very warm, all sinew and tendons, skin smooth where hair don't reach, and Gwen can feel every minute movement of the toes. When they next shift under her palm, she thinks, Arthur really needs to stop moving that foot now, and she bends down and kisses it. 

It works. Arthur stills utterly, and Gwen almost pulls back, wondering if she went way too out of step, and almost laughs at that thought, but then Arthur flexes his feet up, a subtle, slow, deliberate move. Gwen kisses it again experimentally. Arthur shifts on the bed.

"Guineve-" he starts, at the same time she says, "Can I -", and they both stop. She looks at him, hand still on his foot, waiting, and he gets his clue that he's going to have to be the one who speaks first. His voice is gruff.

"Only if you want to." 

She nods. She very much wants to, is intrigued, and wants to see him shift on the bed like that again. He looks surprised for a moment, before recovering and looking on the side, face ruddy. Not for the first time, she's glad her own isn't showing how much she feels the same but knows her shining eyes are giving her away anyway. 

"Ah. Hm, good, then," he says, and she wants to smile at how out of his field he sounds, but she compensates by kissing his feet again. Arthur makes a sound this time, a dry "Ah-", and she kisses the side of his feet next, her thumb rubbing circles on his ankle. 

She feels the movement of tendons under her lips as his toes flex down, and, remembering he was cleaning both his feet when she came in with the bandages, kisses those too. Above, there is a flop as Arthur falls back against the covers. 

Not wanting him to hurt himself further, knowing he wouldn't say if he hurt, Gwen grabs Arthur's other ankle and starts kissing that feet instead. Arthur groans. 

It doesn't take long before he's panting, and Gwen feels dizzy from all these new things she's discovering about him and herself. They've had sex before, a lot of it, too, and almost every day during the Dragon's siege when both their nerves were fragile and taunt and hard trusts in an alcove with hands digging into sweat-slick flesh felt like the only anchor amidst chaos and pain, but they hadn't yet really taken the time to define what they were, to learn of each another's body and heart as much as Gwen was sometimes afraid she wanted to. 

Yet this felt right, and new, and all the more addictive for it. 

Gwen kisses his feet at random, lingering on the thin skin on the sides, tracing designs with her tongue until Arthur squirms, biting gently at a toe if he puffs a laugh simply for the heady feeling of hearing the sound turn into a moan. 

She has to grab his ankle in both her hands and hold it steady when she licks his second toe, noting how it is longer than his big toe, the opposite of hers, and looks up from his muffled grunt to see Arthur biting the side of one of his fist, the other twisting his sheets, and hips rocking up, breeches pulled taunt. One of her hand lets go of his ankle then and she presses it between her own legs, rocking into it through the layers of her skirts and apron. 

"Fuck, Gwen," Arthur says, and she notices he saw her, for his own hand is working frantically at his breaches now. 

His fingers get tangled an instant, and he presses his palm down hard, cupping and rubbing himself roughly through his trousers, hips shoving up into the touch. 

Her hand still on Arthur grips his ankle harder and she feels her finger dig into his skin. 

Arthur whimpers and clenches his eyes closed, baring his teeth, before suddenly sitting up partway and gripping Gwen by the shoulders. Despite the suddenness of his movement, she feels him try to be careful with her as he pulls her up the bed then rolls over her, framing her with his body. Her legs wrap around his hips of their own accord and she feels the fabrics of her skirts slip down her thighs. 

The shock of suddenly feeling his breeches along the underside of her thighs makes her gasp, but it's nothing to the feel of his hand brushing against her cunt as he presses his groin towards hers, hand still tangled in his trouser's laces. She moans. He grips her hip with his free hand, thumb falling neatly into the fold between stomach and thigh.

One of her hand is gripping the back of his shirt, rocking it up, feeling the skin of his exposed stomach against her knees. Arthur bends down and kisses, licks, and bites the side of her neck. She can feel his breath hot and fast between bites, hear his panted swears and pleas. Her other hand slides into his fine hair and grips it hard. 

Air around them thickens and presses down, until there is nothing but the feel of fingers sliding back and forth, the slickness of skin and roughness of clothes and own they blend through the frantic rutting, wet sounds contrasting with grunts and groans. Gwen can feel Arthur's fingers rubbing her nub, thumb sliding back and forth if the hand dips down a little to press inside, all of it almost too rough, too fast, yet perfect and sharp, just as she's been missing it. She can feel the hot hard press of him in the cradle of one hip, too, from where he's rubbing against her, still trapped by his trousers. 

He comes in them with a heavy trust and a keen, wrenching away from their messy kiss to bite at her shoulder. She comes with a hard buck and a cry, tugging at his hair. 

 

The next time Arthur gets hurt on a hunt his party comes home right away.


End file.
